


Domestic Harmonies 6: The Attic (Favorite Things)

by Mizmak



Series: Domestic Harmonies [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Part 6 of an 8-part slice-of-life series where an angel and a demon learn how to live together.  In the attic, Aziraphale shows Crowley a memento he's kept for over 200 years, waiting for the right moment to share it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Domestic Harmonies [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762777
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	Domestic Harmonies 6: The Attic (Favorite Things)

Aziraphale turned the handle at the far end of the hallway which opened the hatch in the ceiling, and let down the ladder to the cottage’s attic.

A little cloud of dust descended on his head, making him sneeze.

He glanced along the hallway at Crowley, who strolled towards him, carrying a cardboard box, his mouth open. “I told—“

“Please do not say _I told you so._ ”

Crowley grinned as he came up to the ladder. “Yeah, well, I _did_.”

_Use a miracle first to make it clean_. Miracle for this, another frivolous miracle for that—ever since moving here, Aziraphale had been striving to use his powers judiciously, and had been struggling to get Crowley on the same page. No, it wasn’t as if they had any limits to their supernatural talents, but he felt they made everything too easy. He _liked_ doing things as if he were human.

He liked the feeling of fitting in more on the Earth in that way, especially now that they were unlikely to ever leave it, since they’d been effectively banned from Heaven and Hell.

Aziraphale sneezed again. On the other hand, perhaps his attitude was due to overthinking everything, as he was wont to do. “Do you suppose there are cobwebs?” He paused. “And spiders?”

“It’s an attic, Angel.”

“Right.” He rubbed his hands together, and then raised one to snap the dust, along with any putative insects and their webs, into the woodpile in the garden—where he made sure they’d be quite content.

“This is heavy.” Crowley set the box precariously on one the ladder rungs. “What’s in it?”

“Just a few of my…favorite things.”

Crowley quirked an eyebrow. “Souvenirs? Really?”

“Yes. You aren’t the only one to tote around mementos. Which reminds me—where do you think you’re going to put that enormous church lectern?”

He had been quite touched, that night he’d spent at Crowley’s flat after stopping Armageddon, to see the eagle lectern—one of his friend’s many souvenirs from their past adventures. 

“How about the garden?”

“Hm.” Aziraphale considered the idea. A bit ostentatious, perhaps, but maybe they could find a corner to tuck it into. “All right.”

“Come on, then, let’s get your boxes up there.” Crowley started up the ladder, pausing to pick up the box of mementos on his way.

Aziraphale trotted back to the sitting room, where dozens of boxed up items stood stacked. He’d kept the bookshop’s lease going, with a “permanently closed” sign on the door, because they needed a comfortable place to stay for London visits. But he’d emptied many of the bookcases, and boxed up the decorative items—globes, statues, chess set and so forth—for storage here. 

The bedroom he’d converted into a library held two thousand of his most precious books, while the rest were going into the attic along with the assorted knickknacks. 

Then there were those mementos from his and Crowley’s long past together. He hadn’t saved that many items, only a few which meant the most to him. He had always kept them private, out of sight of prying occult or ethereal forces, and hadn’t even shared them with his friend before.

Aziraphale picked up a box of books and carted it down the hall, and up the sturdy ladder to the attic. He poked his head above the opening, shoving the box across the floorboards, and was about to go back down for another box when he caught sight of Crowley.

He sat cross-legged in front of the opened box of mementos, from which he was taking out the items one by one.

Well, they were _meant_ to be shared at some point, though Aziraphale had planned to do so in his own good time, at the right moment. _Oh, well._ He sighed as he hauled himself up into the room, bending low to avoid the slanting roof, and made his way over.

“Having fun?” he asked as he sat down.

“Yup.” Crowley held up an ancient piece of pottery. “What’s this?”

“Serving tray from Petronius’s restaurant.”

“Aha. Oysters.” He set the tray aside, and picked up a wooden tankard. “And where’s this from?”

“The White Hart pub, sadly demolished.” Aziraphale reached across to take the tankard, turning it round in his hands. He had kept it in tip-top condition, as he did all of his possessions. “We agreed upon the Arrangement there in 1002.”

“And got extraordinarily drunk afterwards, as I recall.”

“Rather too much, yes.” He remembered how fretful he’d felt the next day, worried that he’d made a huge mistake with their Arrangement, and fearful that their drunken walk through the streets of London after the pub closed would not go unnoticed.

“We’re good at drinking together.”

“I suppose we are.” Aziraphale looked round the attic. Maybe he could put up a few shelves on the lower part of the wall beneath the slanted roof, and display his favorite mementos there, instead of always hidden away in a box. No reason to hide his collection now.

Crowley pulled out a carefully preserved sheet, protected in a clear plastic holder. “Is this the original playbill for Hamlet?”

“It is indeed.” Aziraphale smiled warmly. “That made me terribly happy, you know—the way you made it so popular.”

For some reason, Crowley bit his lower lip. “Yeah...about that….”

“Something wrong?”

“Not exactly. Just, um, a slight confession.”

Aziraphale had a feeling where this was going. “About that little jaunt to Edinburgh, is it?”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you _know_ I cheated on the coin toss all along?”

“No, not at the time. But on that long—and may I say, _extremely_ uncomfortable horseback trip to Scotland—I did have some time to think things over. And it occurred to me, rather belatedly, that you must have known in advance that I’d been assigned those tasks in Edinburgh. For _you_ were the one who requested we meet, yet when I asked what you wanted, there was, I believe, some hemming and hawing on your part. And then when I mentioned having to go to Scotland, you acted as though this were news to you, yet you already had the invocation of the Arrangement in mind. So I had every reason to believe the coin toss was rigged.”

“Yeah, it was.” Crowley gazed down at his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I suppose a four-hundred-year-old apology is better than nothing.”

“So why didn’t you mention it when you got back?”

“Didn’t seem necessary—you may recall that after Edinburgh, I insisted on simply taking our Arrangement duties in turn in future, rather than using coin tosses.”

Crowley smiled. “Clever angel. Thanks for not taking me to task then.”

Aziraphale felt a faint flush on his cheeks. “Possibly it was because I felt slightly guilty myself at the time.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. “What did you _do?”_

“I may have counteracted ‘your’ temptation.” Aziraphale twisted his fingers together a trifle nervously, hoping his dear friend would not be too upset this long after the fact. “You see, after I tempted that clan leader to steal some cattle, which I believe was intended to start fractious relations between the two clans, I performed a bit of a miracle to help him retrieve his cattle peacefully.”

“You _what?_ I could have gotten into trouble!”

“No! No, I would never have endangered you!” Aziraphale reached over to touch Crowley’s arm. “I waited several days first, to put some distance between the two acts. I’m quite certain your people paid no more attention once the temptation had been accomplished. You always insisted no one Down There cared.”

Crowley shook his head, and for a moment, Aziraphale worried he would storm off—but then he laughed. “You _are_ just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.”

Aziraphale relaxed, all tension fled. “I found it hard, that’s all—to tempt people into foul deeds, as it were—and purely for my own self-indulgence.”

“Yeah, I know.” Crowley shoved the box aside and shifted closer. He put his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “It was a lot to ask of you.”

“ _You_ had to do blessings. Those can’t have been easy, either.”

“Wrong. They _were_ easy. I liked doing them.” Crowley leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Made me feel closer to you.” He smiled softly. “And it made me feel just a tiny bit like the angel I once was.”

That admission tugged at Aziraphale’s heart in a way he’d not felt before with Crowley—and a wave of affection tinged with sadness flowed through him.

“Oh, my dear—“ He pulled Crowley into a tight hug. “I had no idea.” His friend had lost so much. He stroked Crowley’s back in a slow, gentle rhythm. “My dear, what you once were is _not_ all gone.”

“Don’t say that. I’m not—“

“You can’t have lost _every_ part of your angelic self. I refuse to believe that. There aren’t any other demons _like_ you—there _is_ something deep inside you still, from Heaven, from before—“

“ _Stop it!”_

Aziraphale pulled back, and saw tears welling in Crowley’s eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just so impossible that you aren’t at least partly angelic still. I’ve said it in the past and I _meant_ it—you are a _good_ person.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell the world.” Crowley choked back a sob.

“But you _are_ , and I love that you kept hold of kindness despite what happened, in spite of Hell.” He let go his embrace, and brushed at the tears on Crowley’s cheeks. “Let it _be_ there. You don’t belong to Hell any longer. Just be what you were always meant to be—someone who can love the world, and humanity.”

Crowley took hold of Aziraphale’s hand, and kissed the palm. “And someone who can love a true angel.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “Even one who’s a bit of a bastard?”

“ _Especially_ one who’s a bit of a bastard.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” He leaned in closer to kiss him lightly on the lips. He felt Crowley’s tension ease, and let go his hold. “Good.” He turned his attention to the box. “Now, then, shall we see what else is in here?” He sorted through the mementos.

Crowley’s eyes widened as Aziraphale pulled out a pristinely wrapped box of chocolates. “That’s never the ones I got for your bookshop opening.”

“One and the same.”

“But—that was two hundred _years_ ago!”

“Indeed. And by a somewhat complicated bit of angelic magic, I’ve managed to keep them unopened, and as fresh as new all this time.”

“ _Why?”_

“As you may recall, by the time you got back from fending off a certain Archangel that day, you simply dashed in, thrust them at me with a quick congratulations on opening the bookshop, and dashed out again.”

“I was worried they’d come back—wanted to keep an eye out.”

“Yes, but we never got to _share_ them.” Aziraphale remembered that day well, one of the most terrifying in his life, when Gabriel came to announce his promotion and impending return to Heaven. Only Crowley’s quick thinking had saved the day.

“So you’ve been keeping them for two centuries.”

Aziraphale closed the box lid. “I’d meant to save them for a time when we could eat them together, but what with one thing and another, that didn’t happen soon enough, and I quite forgot about them, I’m afraid. We could drive up to London, I suppose, and open it in the bookshop for a proper celebration, but I’d rather like to try them out here, if you don’t mind. As a sort of housewarming treat?”

“Good plan.” Crowley crawled over to the ladder. “Come on, Angel, let’s do it.”

Aziraphale followed him back down to the ground floor, and popped into the kitchen to put the tea kettle on. “I do hope that miracle hasn’t gone off.”

“Let’s see.” Crowley tore off the chocolate box packaging. He opened the lid and took a sniff. “Hm. Smells all right. No sign of mold. Bloody good work, I’d say.”

They took their tea and the chocolates into the sitting room, and settled in close together on the sofa.

Crowley handed the box over. “You choose one first.”

Aziraphale picked out a chocolate, and bit into it. “Mmm. Praline flavor. Quite lovely.” He held up the other half. “Want a taste?”

“Please.” Crowley opened his mouth.

Aziraphale popped the chocolate in, and smiled as Crowley bit into it, closed his eyes, and made a suitably appreciative sound. He opened his eyes, looked at Aziraphale lovingly, and said, “ _Perfect_.”

“Worth the wait, I believe.”

Crowley picked up his tea mug. “To the past.”

Aziraphale set down the chocolates and picked up his mug, clinking it against Crowley’s. “To the past—and to making new memories together.”

They both drank deeply before delving once more into what, as far as Aziraphale was concerned, was the finest box of chocolates he had ever eaten, and—because it could be shared at last—it was the favorite of all his favorite things.


End file.
